


Blood Gulch Apartments

by ashaleighmarie



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Apartment AU, Drabble Series, F/F, F/M, M/M, Modern AU, Multi, more may be added later - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-14
Updated: 2015-02-25
Packaged: 2018-03-01 09:36:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2768306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashaleighmarie/pseuds/ashaleighmarie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blood Gulch Apartments was, in fact, a shithole. But for the majority of them, it was home. Loud neighbors, annoying animals, shitty wifi and all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Welcome to Blood Gulch

**Author's Note:**

> This is my introduction for my new drabble series I'm beginning now that school is out. Future chapters will vary in length. Chapters will not always be in chronological order. Feel free to leave comments or send me messages with ideas and feedback.  
> http://wexeatxthexrude.tumblr.com/ask

“Dude, why do we still live here?”

There was high-pitched screaming coming from the end of the hall – a Grif fight, by the sound of it. Simmons was no doubt at work, otherwise he’d have tried to break it up by now. The rhythmic pounding of sex through paper-thin walls came from a little further down and to the left. Their bathrooms were basically butted up together, and no amount of banging and swearing seemed to deter the pair from their slow erosion of the tiles in that shitty little shower of theirs.

Freckles was barking again, and it had Maine on edge. Not that it seemed to take much to put the little asshole into a bad mood. The only person the furball seemed to really like was Wash. And even that was grudging sometimes.

With a grunt, Church leaned forward to grab another beer, and cracked it open, flicking the bottle cap at Tucker. “Because it’s the only place that puts up with all of us.”

“Well, yeah, but I mean, you could probably find another place that has room for three people. Even with that massive attack dog of yours,” he pointed out, dodging the metal cap before he took another pull from his own bottle, dreads tied back messily to keep them out of his face.

“Freckles isn’t an attack dog. Mostly. Besides, Caboose likes it here. He thinks the whole building is friends with him.” But not best friends. Never that. Only room for one of those, as he was reminded on a regular basis. “Besides, I’m sure you could find a place that allowed cats.”

“Yeah, but this place is closer to Junior than any other place in the city.” The pointed look sent his way had him raising his arms in surrender. “All right, all right, I get it. Still, it’s kind of a shithole.”

“It’s absolutely a shithole. But it could probably be worse.”

Down the hall, the screaming had reached a fever pitch. The sounds of crashing and banging began to rattle down the hall, and the banging from next door faltered just a little before resuming, loud as ever.

“You know. Probably.”

\---

Blood Gulch Apartments was, in fact, a shithole. It wasn’t particularly dirty or neglected. Sarge took pride in running a tight ship, and when the grizzled war veteran wasn’t standing on the roof shouting insults at armies that no longer existed, or sitting at the front desk cleaning his shotgun, he was harassing his tenants. He had no qualms about barging into an apartment when maintenance was needed, regardless of the state of its occupants, and complaints were usually answered with aforementioned shotgun in hand, and a gleam of promise in steely eyes that warned of just how willing he was to use it if necessary.

Grif claimed he was still picking the buckshot out of his bedroom wall.

The real grease keeping the building running was Lopez, usually two steps behind Sarge with the real answer to people’s problems in hand, and a running commentary in Spanish that no one else seemed to understand.

Whether he actually couldn’t speak English or if he just refused to wasn’t quite clear. But he always seemed to understand what was said to him, at least. That or he was just really good at figuring out the solution to people’s problems without any feedback on their part.

There was a functioning mailroom on the first floor, just off of the lobby, a laundry room in the basement, and a dumpster out behind the building for trash that was emptied once a week. It was in these communal places above all else that one could really get a taste for the many varied flavors of Blood Gulch’s colorful community.

After watching Caboose splash ankle deep in sudsy water with Freckles and then being hit with the largest and most wounded blue-eyed gaze imaginable the moment the water was gone, only to stumble into the mailroom and find Felix prying open his mailbox with a knife because he’d once again lost his key to it, it was easy to see why the place had gotten its bad rep.

But for the majority of them, it was home. Loud neighbors, annoying animals, shitty wifi and all.

“THE ONE RULE IS TO NOT DISHONOR THE FAMILY! WHY CAN’T YOU FOLLOW THAT?!”

“I THOUGHT THE ONE RULE WAS DON’T INVITE THE COPS TO YOUR HOUSE PARTY!”

“THAT’S THE _OTHER_ ONE RULE, OH MY GOD, YOU’RE SUCH AN IDIOT!”

Simmons was nearly bowled over by a half-dressed stranger as he came out of the stairwell – third one this week – and he let out a sigh as he heard the ringing shouts from the fiery siblings still echoing down the hall.

“Oh thank God! Simmons! You’re back!” Caboose peeked out around his apartment door, a wide smile on his face. “Yeah, Grif and Sister have been fighting for a while now. Church went over to visit Tucker to try and get away from the noise, and because Tex was napping, and she gets really cranky when she can’t nap on work nights. So if you could maybe, um, stop them from fighting and maybe tell Church so he can come home?”

“Yeah. I’ll take care of it, Caboose.” The beaming smile he got in response almost made it worth it, before the door was shut once more and he heard the rustling and jingling behind the door of both man and dog. It was unlikely Caboose would leave his post at the peep hole until Church returned, or something within the apartment managed to distract him.

The closer he got to the raised voices, the more relieved he was to realize that the fight was taking place in Kai’s apartment for once. At least none of the broken things would belong to him this time. Normally he wasn’t so lucky. 

"Grif!"

"OH GOOD, NOW YOUR BOYFRIEND IS HERE SO YOU CAN HAVE SOMETHING OTHER THAN THAT HUGE STICK UP YOUR ASS!"

"I SWEAR TO GOD I'M GOING TO STRANGLE YOU! AND WHAT MAKES YOU THINK SIMMONS DOESN'T TAKE IT UP HIS ASS?"

"GRIF STOP SCREAMING AT YOUR SISTER ABOUT OUR SEX LIFE!"

Down the hall, a door banged open. "SOME OF US ARE ALREADY TRYING TO HAVE SEX!"

"Felix. Shut. Up."

"Make me, asshole."

"..."

"Okay, wait, nevermind, don't make me, I'm sorry, please finish."

"Hey, guys! Are we having a hallway party? Someone should have told me sooner, I could have made snacks!"

"I don't know, it sounds more like fighting to me..."

"Nothing some homemade snacks wouldn't fix, Doc!"

"OH MY GOD! FRECKLES LOVES SNACKS!"

“SHUT THE FUCK UP SO I CAN SLEEP! _CHURCH!_ ”

\---

"…Still sure it could be worse?"

"Bite me, Tucker."


	2. Grif and the Motorcycle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "If god didn't want us to drive places, he wouldn't have given us vehicles."
> 
> "God didn't give us vehicles, dumbass. Other men did."
> 
> "Yeah, but somebody had to give us the idea. Like god or something."

One of the nice things about Blood Gulch was its locale. It wasn't anywhere near the nicer neighborhoods, saving its occupants from being teased with luxuries they could never afford. But it also wasn't exactly rundown. There were plenty of other businesses nearby, such as restaurants and gas stations and shops for all manner of things. There was a grocery store, and even a university, just under a mile away from where the building stood.

With so many employment opportunities right outside one's door, there was no need to waste money running a car on a regular basis. For some, it was easier to not own one at all. Public transport existed for a reason.

However, there was one occupant of Blood Gulch that felt otherwise.

"Grif, for the millionth time, do not drive that goddamn thing."

"Look, Simmons, if you want to walk everywhere you go, then that's fine. You walk. But I am a creature of comfort. A creature of habit. And if god didn't want us to drive places, he wouldn't have given us vehicles."

"God didn't give us vehicles, dumbass. Other men did."

"Yeah, but somebody had to give us the idea. Like god or something." The exasperated look being directed at him by his roommate was even better than the satisfaction of actually winning an argument. Just knowing Simmons was frustrated was good enough for him.

With a grin, he gave a little rev of the engine, feeling the machine between his legs rumble, and the glower that drew those eyebrows down as Simmons continued to stare at Grif had his smile widening into a shit-eating beam.

"I've gotta go, asshole, I'm gonna be late for my shift. Have fun walking your ass to work." With a jaunty little salute, Grif pulled down the visor for his helmet and took off from the curb, slipping easily into traffic and disappearing around a corner.

"...He's going to die on that thing."

"Oh, I hope not. That would be terrible."

Simmons didn't want to bother turning around at first, but eventually he did so, sighing. "Hey, Caboose."

"Hello, Simmons. I am waiting for Tex." For once, he was without his loyal canine, but he still seemed to be in high spirits as ever, lightly bouncing on his toes. He was wearing his favorite blue shirt, as he liked to remind everyone on a regular basis, and there was a cap tugged down on his messy black hair. Upon closer inspection, the mismatched socks peeking out from under paint-stained jeans could also be seen.

"...Did Church help you dress today?"

Caboose looked down at his outfit curiously and then back up at Simmons with a wide smile. "Oh, no! I did it myself today! Tex said I looked very nice and that I should come down here and wait for her. We're going to the store."

"Sounds like fun." Simmons glanced back out at the street again.

"I would not worry about Grif. He is a very good driver."

"I'm not worried about him." Simmons scowled, annoyed at how his voice cracked lightly, betraying his lie. "Besides, how do you know he's a good driver?"

"Oh, he gave me a ride one time. Yeah, Church and I went to the library and he forgot to take me with him when he left, and I got lost when I tried to walk home by myself because the library also doesn't like when Freckles visits. Luckily, Grif found me and he stopped so I could ride with him and he got me home safe! It was really fun!"

"It was...fun? That death trap?"

"Ah- come on, Simmons, have you never even tried to ride it before? I bet it would be less scary if you tried it. It would also be less scary if Grif went with you. Things are less scary with friends. That is why I am glad to have Church and Tex and Freckles. They are very good at keeping the monsters away. And you have Grif!"

Simmons wanted to argue that no, he did not _have_ Grif, for anything, not at all, they were strictly roommates. That occasionally had sex. But only occasionally. Like when they were drunk. Or bored. And on weekends.

Before he could say any of that, though, the door into the building opened and Tex came strolling out, and Caboose crowed excitedly, rushing to her side. He towered over her, six and a half feet of excited child, but she caught his weight easily, keeping her feet as he bowled into her for a hug.

"Tex! Simmons was keeping me company while I waited for you. I was telling him about the time I rode Grif's motorcycle. And how I got home and you were mad at Church but it was okay because I got to have a fun ride!"

The blonde woman smiled, sharp blue eyes shifting over to Simmons around Caboose's embrace. "Well, that was very nice of him."

"Oh! Right! Thank you, Simmons!" Caboose released Tex from his hug and bounced over to drag Simmons into a tight squeeze before he could do anything to stop it.

"Ah- you're welcome, Caboose." He rubbed his ribs a little as he was let go, stumbling back half a step. Caboose was always a little stronger than he gave him credit for.

"Don't you have work today, Simmons?" Tex lifted a brow, as Caboose returned to her side, lacing their fingers together, arms swinging, earning a kiss on his forehead in return.

"Oh! Uh, yeah, I was just...going there, actually." He shoved his hands into his pockets, suddenly feeling self-conscious. Tex was one of the few women that didn't leave him immediately feeling tongue-tied, but he still shied away the moment he began feeling too closely scrutinized. By anyone, really.

"Well, have fun with that. Caboose and I have to do a little shopping. Some grumpy asshole got himself a sinus infection and refuses to take care of himself. So we left Freckles to sit on him while we get some things." Tex turned away and Caboose followed her happily.

"Bye, Simmons! I hope you stop being angry at Grif soon!"

"Yeah..." Soon he stood alone on the street corner once more, watching them disappear. "See you."

\---

It took a week for the subject to come up again. Every time he knew Grif was going somewhere, he would purposefully delay going downstairs until he knew the other was gone, just to save from having the argument.

Grif knew something was up. He was an idiot most of the time, but he wasn't actually stupid. He'd prodded at Simmons a few times, with insults and then bribes, not that snack cakes actually interested him like they did his chubby roommate. Finally, he'd tried to offer sex, slipping into the shower behind him one night and kissing over his pale neck until Simmons had panicked and bolted from the bathroom.

Since then, there had been a tense sort of silence between them. For the first time in a while, he actually used his own bedroom to sleep through the night, though he often ended up tossing around restlessly more than anything else.

Finally, on a crisp Friday morning in December, he forced himself to get dressed and go downstairs immediately after Grif did, coming up on him just as he'd straddled the machine, helmet in his hands.

"Look-"

"What are you doing down here? You don't have work today."

"Neither do you."

"I'm making a run to the store."

They stared at one another, awkward and uncertain, nerves on edge and somewhat raring for a fight, as was usually their go-to whenever they had problems. But Simmons cleared his throat, and glanced away from the challenge in those dark eyes.

"Take me with you."

"Yeah, well- wait. What?" He blinked, and the frustrated aggression shifted immediately into confusion.

"I said take me with you. Apparently you let Caboose ride along, so. I want a turn." Grif continued to stare at him as though he'd grown a second head, and he could feel his face heating up more and more by the second.

"Dude, you hate this thing. Also why would you know about that?"

"Caboose told me about it."

"...Why were you talking to Caboose about me?"

"Oh my god, that's not the point here! The point is I want you to move your fatass over and let me ride with you to the store and not ask me so many goddamn questions!" His voice had begun to go a bit shrill at the end, and Grif caught his hand before he could completely freak out, tugging him half a step closer, winning his full attention, and some measure of calm.

For an asshole, he had gotten pretty good at taking care of his neurotic, anxiety-riddled friend.

"All right. Here." He pushed the orange helmet into Simmons' hands, waiting for him to put it on before he scooted forward a little and patted the space behind him. "Just hold onto me."

"What the hell else would I hold onto?" he grumbled, but he climbed on obediently, wrapping his armstightly around his soft middle. "Lucky you're not any fatter or I wouldn't be able to hold you, fatass."

"Yeah, yeah, shut up."

The engine revved and Simmons buried his face against Grif's back, his heart racing, pounding between them at a steady jackrabbit pace.

"I've got you, all right? Just relax."

They pulled away from the curb, and Simmons squeezed his eyes shut.

Overall, it wasn't the worst experience of his life. Not that he'd ever tell Grif that. But by the time they got back home Simmons was no longer quite so scared of Grif driving to work all the time.

Grif had been smug as they headed back upstairs, nudging Simmons over and over, needling him about his needless worry, about trusting him more. "Just say it out loud. Say 'Grif, you're actually a good driver and I was wrong'."

"You're about to sleep on the couch, dumbass."

"Naaah."

Teeth caught at his ear as he was working the key into the door, breath hitching nearly inaudibly as strong, thick fingers curled around his hips and squeezed.

"Grif- let me get the door open-"

"Nah." Hot breath washed over his damp earlobe and he shivered, feeling Grif's warm front slide in closer against his back.

Finally the door popped open, and they stumbled inside. Grif kicked the door shut behind them and Simmons found himself off his feet and over his shoulder before he could resist. He squeaked and clutched at his shoulders. "Grif!"

"Yeah, keep screaming my name. We'll do this right here on the floor."

"Take me to bed, you lazy ass!"

"Yeah, talk dirty to me, baby."

"Grif!"

He bounced a little as he was tossed onto the mattress, but Grif was quick to crawl up there with him, and he was busily kissing Simmons' scowl away before it could properly ruin his mood.

"You're still an asshole."

"Tell me something I don't know." His hands slipped under Simmons' shirt, pushing it up to gradually expose his pale stomach, and he shivered a little as Grif leaned down and began kissing along his neck, teeth scraping lightly along his delicate skin.

"Just shut up and fuck me."

"Oh, Simmons, I didn't know you were such a romantic." He wanted to punch that stupid grin right off his stupid, handsome face. But there was another hand working its way into his pants now and the teeth were starting to nip a little harder and he was finding it easier to relax and enjoy rather than continuing their argument.

The sex that night was enthusiastic enough that Donut left them a morning after basket on their doorstep.

Grif had immediately claimed the thermos of orange juice out of it, looking a little too proud of himself for Simmons' taste. The replacement condoms and lube were appreciated, though. Really, Simmons was just glad Donut hadn't tried to knock and come in to give it to them halfway through.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic will earn its explicit rating, I promise. Just teasing you guys for now.


	3. Take Me to Church

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fingers curled and tucked lightly into the collar of his shirt, and the niggling bad mood hanging around like a black rot in his gut slipped out of his reach, replaced with the familiar promise of something far better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> http://youtu.be/t0imaSCnSuA
> 
> Listened to Hozier's "Take Me to Church" on repeat while writing most of this. Seems fitting to link to it here.

Church could be considered 'grumpy' on a good day. On a bad day, he was a downright miserable bastard. Most of the other tenants tried not to stumble into his path too often just to avoid the bitching and bad temper. Others loved to encourage it and rile him up, like Tucker. And Felix. Though one was usually taken much more good-naturedly than the other.

And then there was Caboose.

The bright-hearted man was seemingly immune to even the worst of Church's bad moods. He met every sniped comment with a smile and a cheerful rebuttal. And when he didn't - those few, few times when the words actually hit their mark - Caboose barely had time to let them sink in completely before Church realized what he'd done and apologized.

Then on the other side, of course, was Tex.

In contrast to Caboose, rather than batting aside his snark with a smile, she instead met it with words as sharp as his own. They clawed at one another whenever the mood took them, exchanging insults and scowls, equally matched in their animosity. The wedding bands on either of their fingers was the best indication any of them had that somehow, they had actually chosen each other for themselves.

When they first moved into the building, they did so fairly quickly and quietly, with little notice. One day there was no one in the biggest third floor apartment, and then the next day there was. Gossip ran wild. Who were these strangers? How were they related? Where did they come from? And why Blood Gulch?

Donut announced that he had engaged the tallest one in an absolutely charming conversation about baked goods at the mailboxes, and had also met his lovely canine companion as well. The only other opinion on the matter had been Doc’s, and he had seemed somewhat preoccupied with the _size_ of the animal in question.

Sarge grumbled about the woman's boldness and actually didn't point his shotgun at her during a confrontation, according to Felix. It had apparently been incredibly entertaining. Then again, Felix was known to have a very bizarre sense of humor sometimes.

Tucker actually vouched for the second man, and greeted him rather warmly, all things considered. Wash seemed less enthused by their arrival, but he was polite, as per his usual. It somewhat paved the way for better relations with the rest of them.

But eventually the names of their newest tenants made the rounds. Leonard Church, Michael Caboose, and Allison Church. Otherwise known as Tex. No one ever called her Allison. Or if they did, they certainly didn't do it in polite company. Not even her two roommates, from what anyone could tell.

The biggest curiosity, throughout the complex, from the most socially involved member of their community to the least, was what they all meant to one another. They were rarely seen together by anyone outside of their apartment. Occasionally in pairs, but usually on their own, coming and going as they pleased.

It was obvious that Church and Tex were together - they shared a last name but they looked nothing alike, so it was highly doubtful that they were related. The wedding rings, Simmons had pointed out dryly, were also a good clue.

Caboose was the wild card. Caboose was odd, he was inexplicable. He and the undocked Doberman that shadowed him 98% of the time didn't seem to match with the bickering but well-matched couple that he lived with.

Predictably, it was Tucker that finally asked the question. He was, as Wash had pointed out, the closest to any of them.

He had swung by to share a few beers with Church while Tex was at work and Wash apparently 'nerded up the apartment', as Tucker put it. They'd been content to shoot the shit and bitch about work and make crude jokes to one another, until the rattle of dog tags came down the hallway and Caboose padded out into view in their wake.

"Oh, hey Tucker! I was just getting some cookies for me and Freckles. He has his own special dog cookies, but Church and I made some chocolate chip ones yesterday." He was already in the kitchen rummaging around, emerging once more with two handfuls of cookies, clumsily shaped circles in one and bone shaped in the other.

He circled through the living room by the couch and happily leaned down to his roommate, brushing a kiss lightly over Church's mouth, which was quietly reciprocated. "Don't get crumbs in the bed,” he warned mildly.

"Oh, I won't! We're gonna eat on the floor." As Caboose disappeared back up the hall, Tucker watched him go, and then looked back at his friend. "What's the deal with him?"

Taking a sip from his beer, Church lifted a brow. "What do you mean, what's the deal with him? Caboose?"

"Yeah, dude, what gives? I thought you were married to Tex. Like, what is this?"

Church rolled his eyes. "Well, unfortunately, you can't be married to two different people. Tex and I have known each other a lot longer, so we sort of tied the knot already before we found Caboose. You were there, you might remember. If you weren’t too drunk.”

“Dude, of course I remember. That’s where I first met Wash.” Tucker tossed his feet up onto the edge of the coffee table and whined when Church kicked them back off again. “So, that’s been a few years, when did Caboose come into the picture?”

“Almost a year ago now. Tex and I are planning something special for the anniversary tomorrow. He’s going to be excited.” Church paused, then rolled his eyes. “More than usual, I mean. He’d be excited about a pet rock.”

“I think he’d be excited about a normal rock if you told him it was a friendship rock or something.”

“You’re not exactly wrong. But yeah, ran into him one day - literally. We had a flat, were fucking around with the jack trying to get the piece of junk lifted enough to swap in the spare. All of a sudden all I hear is that monster of his galloping toward me and him screaming the damn thing’s name. I snag the leash, and of course Caboose is over the moon about me ‘rescuing’ Freckles before he could get into the road. He helped us get the tire swapped - goddamn super strength, I swear.”

He shrugged. “But yeah. He insisted that he’d see us again, that we were gonna be best friends, he just knew it, and the kid sort of grew on us. Kept bumping into him around town, he’d bring us gifts. He was always so excited to see us. He even got Tex’s heart all melty.”

Tucker’s nose wrinkled. “Do you sleep with him? Cause that’s kinda gross, dude, just saying. He’s like twelve.”

“He’s twenty-six, asshole. But no, it’s not… It’s not like that. Well. It is, but… Caboose doesn’t like sex. Doesn’t really care about it, doesn’t really think about it. He knows what it is, understands it and all. He just doesn’t like it. He’s a cuddly bastard, though. So, you know. Tex and I bang when we want, and Caboose just joins us for the rest of it. It works for us.”

“Still pretty weird.”

“Look, I’m not asking _you_ to take on an asexual life partner alongside whatever thing you and Wash have. It just sort of happened for us.”

“Hey, we’re dating. It’s official and stuff. We’re not as bad as the Denial Duo down the hall.”

“Tell me about it. It’s not like they aren’t fucking. Wish they’d just take the hint and stop being such clueless, noisy assholes.”

“Well, we can’t all be perfect.”

“Is that a fucking jab at me, Tucker, because I will yank the stud right out of your ear.”

A hand immediately shot up protectively to cover his earlobe. “Don’t even joke about that shit, dick. Besides, the ladies love a little bling. Just something classy, understated.”

“Right. And I bet Wash loves you catering to all the ladies.” Church grinned at him, and Tucker stuck out his tongue at him.

“Hey, we have an understanding. I flirt with girls. It’s like an autopilot mode with me. But I don’t go touching any of them, and he’s fine with it.” Tucker finished off his second bottle and set it aside.

“Really? How’d you manage that?” Church asked.

“Dude, I’m not giving you all my secrets. Besides, I kind of prefer seeing Tex take off a layer of skin whenever you try.”

“Okay, that was one time.”

"And I would empty the bank in a heartbeat to see it again, man."

\---

That night, Caboose announced that he was having a sleepover with Doc and Donut. "Colonel Cannoli invited me over to make snacks and Christmas ornaments and lots of fun stuff! And maybe breakfast too. But only if he has waffles."

"Sounds like fun, Caboose." Tex threw an elbow into Church's stomach, making him grunt.

"Ah- ow, hey! What?!"

"Caboose is going off for the night."

"Yeah? Send us a postcard, buddy." Another elbow was thrown and he grabbed her arm with a low growl.

"I will be sure to draw one for you while I'm there, Church! And one for you too, Tex. Have fun with all the screaming and banging and stuff. We'll just turn up the Christmas music REALLY LOUD to cover it up."

With a grin, Caboose grabbed his bag and headed for the door with Freckles at his heels. The moment it closed behind him, Church released Tex's arm and flopped back down onto the couch, attention returning to the magazine he'd been flipping through.

"You're being such a prick tonight." Tex shifted her weight, going from sitting on his calves to straddling his thighs, arms crossed over her chest.

"Yeah, well, if you don't like it, maybe you can run off and make cookies too. Leave the grumpy old man to his nightcap."

"Or-" Church made a low aggravated noise as the magazine was plucked from his grasp and tossed onto the nearby coffee table. "Maybe, you come with me, and I can make the grumpy old man a little less grumpy."

Fingers curled and tucked lightly into the collar of his shirt, and the niggling bad mood hanging around like a black rot in his gut slipped out of his reach, replaced with the familiar promise of something far better.

Slowly, he nodded, and he sat up as she slid off of his lap, watching her as she stood over him for a moment. He swung his legs around, and his cheek pressed lightly against her stomach, sighing softly as he felt her fingers slide into his hair.

She stepped back, and he followed, getting to his feet as she tugged him along, heading for their bedroom. Clothes fell behind them, a telling trail. By the time they were both naked, pressed together again, Church could feel the weight on his shoulders like a tangible burden, and he felt a desperate need to shake it off.

"What's been eating at you this time, huh?" His head turned into the soft brush of calloused fingers, and he slid down onto his knees in front of her, mouth tracing idle paths along her soft belly, slow and worshipful. A ritual for himself as much as for her.

"It's been six months since I quit the hard stuff." There was no comment from above him, and it made the confession spill more quickly. "I didn't break my promise. But I went to the liquor store the other day and just held a bottle. Just held it."

"Is that when you came home and snapped at Caboose?" The soft understanding almost made it worse, and he let his forehead drop to press against her stomach instead, eyes squeezed shut.

"Allison..."

"I'm so proud of you, Leonard." A fine shudder tore through him, shoulders quaking. It felt like he should come apart from the force of it. But the warmth of Tex pressed against him helped to hold him together. "Was there anything else?"

"I don't want to fuck up the surprise for Caboose tomorrow."

Slowly, his gaze was tilted upward by a hand under his chin, and their eyes met, one set miserable and one understanding. "You won't." He opened his mouth to protest and she hushed him. "You won't. You love him."

That had never stopped him from ruining things before, for either of them, and he knew it, but it was clear she didn't want to hear that from him, so he kept his mouth shut.

"He's going to come home in the morning, and we're going to give him the best day two assholes like us can give, and he's going to love it, just because it's us. All right?"

Church took a deep breath. The weight wasn't completely gone, but some of it had shifted away. Enough to get the air into his lungs a little more easily. "All right."

She smiled. "Then you're ready for phase two."

A shiver raced down his spine, for a completely different reason now. "Yeah. I am."

Her fingers curled into his hair firmly, and he sank down onto his heels when he felt her palm pressing against his scalp. He felt her shift, settling her weight on the edge of the bed. Her legs spread on either side of his body, one sleek leg settling on one of his shoulders, sliding up to the knee, foot pressing against his back. "Well, while you're down there, you can get started. You can join me on the bed after."

He leaned forward willingly, needing little coaxing, and his mouth wandered up her inner thighs, briefly lingering and teasing, gentle nips and kisses marking his path before he made it to his goal, tongue flicking out testingly, finding her already hot and damp, well on the way to more.

He settled in and set himself to his task, hands curled over her hips just to keep her steady. A groan was stifled against her as he felt her free leg shifting between his own, slipping in to find him, allowing him to rut his hips forward and rub against her calf, just for a little friction, to tease himself with until she was satisfied.

He never felt more at peace than he ever did in those moments. Lost in gentle sins that felt like nothing compared to the ones he found himself accumulating in his day to day life. And always Tex was there to purge them with him, to give him another chance, another day.

She had gotten incredibly good at knowing what he liked and what he needed. And while there were plenty of nights when they had sex, no weight or confessions or pain, there were always nights like these. When Caboose needed to be out of the apartment, when they could exact the penance that he felt like he needed, when he could worship her, and they could curl up together afterward, refreshed.

They were all each like two sides of a coin to one another. Caboose and Tex, Church and Tex, Church and Caboose.

For Church, Caboose was the sunlight he didn't deserve, the smile and the gift he was given whether he welcomed it or not, regardless of what he earned. Given merely because he wanted to give. He was warmth and brightness and love.

And Tex was his confessor, his jailer, his lover, his religion. She took those dark places that Caboose seemed not to see and she made them livable for him, for all of them.

And when she pulled him onto the bed, and climbed over him to ride him to their finish, the only noises they made to break the silence were muted gasps and soft murmurs of one another's names, hands gently stroking and grasping, knotting in hair and sheets.

And afterward, they curled together, foreheads lightly butted close, eyes barely open and breaths mingling between them. And he felt a little less guilty, a little more whole. And they fell asleep with fingers laced together and legs tangled, too tired to even bother with pulling up the sheets.


	4. Let's Take a Lifetime to Say

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Uh oh. He knew that tone. That was the 'I'm ten seconds away from switching to your first name so listen to me' voice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like the title for this chapter would make more sense later down the line, but the working title to this point was literally 'Wash the Nerd', so it will have to do.

David Washington was known to be a serious, dependable kind of guy. The kind you'd trust to house-sit for you while you go on vacation, the one that would deliver your mail immediately to your door if it mistakenly got into his box.

David Washington was not the sort of guy that you'd ever imagine being in a relationship with a man like Lavernius Tucker.

Lavernius Tucker was a playful, carefree kind of guy. He liked to frequent bars and flirt with women, he wore his dark hair in thick dreads and always loved to attend Kai's parties down the hall. The kind that blasted loud music and had a lot of cheap booze and you may not know more than a handful of people there, but nobody really cared at the time, and it was a great place to arrange a hookup if you were looking.

Really, the only reason the two had ever even met was because Wash was apparently close friends with some of Tex's close friends, and he'd been brought along with them as a plus one of sorts for the wedding; and Tucker was Church's good friend and had come to hit on the single women and enjoy an open bar.

They'd crossed paths there, entirely by coincidence. Wash had seen Church standing next to a handsome dark-skinned man with a boisterous laugh and a dazzling smile. When he'd gone over to congratulate Tex, the man was still there, spouting innuendos and laughing as Church held Tex's arm and reminded her that the dress was a rental and bloodstains would probably void their deposit.

They'd exchanged an incredibly brief and uncomfortable glance as he'd offered his scant positive remarks and then high-tailed it out of there to hide among familiar faces for the rest of the evening.

A couple hours and a few drinks later, he'd found himself alone at a table with the stranger again and introductions had been made. Tucker had leered at him a bit but they'd actually managed to have some decent conversation, mostly about the food, the couple, and their friends. Safe, idle topics.

And then Tucker had leaned in close and whispered in his ear, low and warm and suggestive, as fingers crept up along his knee, sliding higher up his thigh. _Wanna fuck?_ He'd choked on the last bit of champagne in his glass, a flush coloring his pale face quickly. But he sure as shit hadn’t said no. Tucker's grin had been a little lopsided and that had been charming in an incredibly disarming sort of way. When he'd gotten to his feet, Wash had found himself following all too easily.

They'd ended the night locked in a bathroom with their pants around their ankles, rutting together like drunken teenagers. Tucker swore about his belt as he pawed at the leather, and Wash popped at least one button, maybe more, off of the wrinkled button down that the younger man had been wearing.

They never kissed, but that just made it easier for them to run their mouths, exchanging the filthiest sort of talk as they raced one another toward climax.

Wash remembered waking up the next morning passed out on top of one of the tables, along with most of the rest of the wedding party. Tucker had been nowhere in sight.

Six months later, they'd crossed paths again.

And now...

"Look, I warned you that the kid had a nasty bite."

Wash was very pointedly focused on the sink, and on his bloody finger, and on getting the source of that blood as clean as he could possibly manage with hot water and hand soap.

"I mean, you know he doesn't like you. For whatever reason. You can't just go sticking your fingers around him and expect him not to try and chomp on one."

"Tucker." Uh oh. He knew that tone. That was the 'I'm ten seconds away from switching to your first name so listen to me' voice. "You dropped him in my fucking lap and told me to hold him while you ran to the bathroom. I don't know what you thought was going to happen."

Tucker threw up his hands in the air. "I don't know! That you'd _not_ let him try to take your finger off at the knuckle? I needed to take a piss!"

"Right. If it's all the same to you, I think I'll skip out on the little joint shopping trip you had planned. You and Junior can go and I'll stay here and try not to get blood anywhere else."

"Aw, dude, come on!"

"Come on, nothing. You go, take the kid with you, and leave me alone so I don't end up saying something I'll regret." Wash swung open the medicine cabinet to grab a large bandage, tugging off the plastic with his teeth as he dried his hand off and swiftly wrapped the sticky ends together around the fierce bite mark, sealing it off. "By the time you get back, it'll be about his bedtime anyway. You can get dinner out, come back and put him to sleep, and by then maybe I'll feel better."

"Yeah... I mean, if you say so. We can hit up some Burger King or something. Junior really likes those Strawberry Shortcake toys. He's already got Shortcake and Cherry Jam. Gonna try to bribe the cashier to give him that Lemon one so he can have all three."

Wash smiled a little. Just a little. "You do that. Have fun."

Tucker padded forward just enough to steal a brief kiss and then he ducked out of the bathroom, still sort of hoping to avoid any lingering ire from his boyfriend.

Wash puttered around in the bathroom listening the rustling and wandering of the other two people in the apartment until he heard the sound of the front door closing and locking, and then he stepped out.

Content for the time being, although admittedly still a little sore about just how hard Junior had bitten him, he wandered into the kitchen to grab a couple beers and then headed into the bedroom, sliding into his seat at the computer.

A few swift clicks had his usual programs up and running, and as familiar names popped into view, he smiled.

_Hey, guys. Guess who has the apartment to himself for a few hours?_

\---

Several hours later, he had well lost track of time. Both beers were empty, the bottles stacked up nearby, and he was curled up comfortably in his chair with Maine on his lap, colors flashing across his face and headphones secure over his ears, mic swung down to his mouth.

"No, no, look, North still needs to get the rare drop for that boss anyway, we can run it one more time and let him take point, then we can move on to that dungeon."  
 _"I don't know, Wash, didn't you say you needed to go after a run or two?"_  
"I should have time for one more run, at least. If we need to do the dungeon another time then we can."  
 _"Carolina's right, didn't you say Tucker likes to give you a lot of shit about your gaming?"_  
"Crawl out of your wife's ass for like two seconds, York. It's fine. Now, are we doing this or not?"

"Holy shit, is this all you've done since we left?"

Wash jumped a little at the unexpected interruption as Maine leapt off his lap and sprinted for the door. He dragged his headphones off to look back at Tucker as the muted catcalls of his guild echoed faintly from them. Junior was nowhere in sight, which meant he's probably already gotten his bath and been put to bed. A quick peek at the clock confirmed that it was well past the time that Tucker would have arrived home. He'd been too wrapped up in the raids they'd been running to even notice.

“It’s not like I had any other really pressing matters to attend to.” He could feel his face flushing a little. “Besides, I thought I’d get some time in while you weren’t here.”

Tucker waved a hand. “It’s not like I really give a shit. I mean, whatever, dude. If you like super nerd stuff, then that’s on you. But really? We were gone for like three hours, _and_ I managed to come back and get Junior a bath and into bed before you even noticed we were here.”

“I have very nice headphones.” He could still hear the faint jeering, particularly from South. It sounded like Wyoming might have joined them as well. Asshole. It was like 2 am where he was. Quickly, he slid them off from around his neck and set them on the desk, leaning to quickly exit the game before the rest of the Freelancers had to listen any further. He’d apologize for backing out so suddenly later.

"Besides, if you had needed me, you know you could have come to get me and I'd have helped." He spun his chair around from the desk, toward Tucker.

"Well, I called for you when I first got in, like once, and you didn't answer. But I didn't really think too much about it until I got in here. I figured the lack of blood everywhere was reason enough not to worry about you."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," Wash said dryly, but there was a hint of a smile on his face. "So Junior's down, you said."

"Yeah. He's all packed to head back to his mom's tomorrow too. She'll probably be by pretty early, like usual." Tucker sank down onto the end of the bed, hands braced on the mattress to either side of his thighs.

"I guess that means we should just go to bed then, huh." It took some effort to maintain a straight expression. The look on Tucker's face was that of a man used to a certain way of the world suddenly being told that everything he knew was actually completely different. Like an incredibly crucial aspect was suddenly being erased.

In another time or place, it might be a troubling attitude for him to have. But in this moment, it just made it harder for Wash to resist the urge to laugh. But oh, how he'd try.

"I mean, you did take Junior out earlier and do all that shopping and bedtime stuff on your own." He was getting up from the bed now. Wash stopped fighting to conceal his grin. "You're already probably exhausted. And you're just going to have to be up early in the morning. So the best thing to do is probabl-"

He was silenced with a kiss, and a hand on the back of his chair, pushing him back as Tucker crowded into his space, legs nudged apart to fit his body between them.

When the kiss broke, Wash stared up at him through ruffled, blond bangs, as Tucker stared back down at him, his face curtained by his dreads. He reached up, pushing them back, but before he could speak they were suddenly kissing again.

He didn't protest, arms linking around his neck as Tucker's hands slipped under his thighs, lifting him free of the chair and carrying him over to the bed, crawling up onto the mattress as he lowered Wash down. His legs remained around his waist.

"You might be ready to hit the hay, old man," Tucker said with a smirk. "But I'm just getting warmed up."

Wash frowned and the grip on his neck shifted to latch onto his hair, tugging lightly. "You better watch your mouth, _kid_."

"Yeah? Or what?"

"Or I'll have to watch it for you." One hand shifted downward suddenly to grip his hip, the other remained up near his shoulder, and he twisted his legs to flip them over, sending Tucker onto his back under him.

"Yeah? Bring it." He was grinning, hands sliding up under his shirt as Wash caught him in another kiss.

"You sure? We don't want you waking up Junior, do we?" Wash's grin threatened to crack into a laugh as Tucker's expression turned into a pout.

"I'm no screamer!"

"That's not what I said. But-" He sat up, ignoring Tucker's protests at him moving away. "If we really want to make sure you stay quiet, we might as well make sure your mouth is occupied while I open you up."

"You act like I can't be noisy with a dick in my mouth."

“And you act like I won’t fuck your mouth and leave you to jerk off in the shower if you don’t at least _pretend_ to behave.”

A whine. “Waaaaaash-” He grumbled as he settled back down into the mattress with a pout, but the look on his boyfriend’s face hardly brooked any argument.

Wash sighed, and leaned down to kiss him, before he shifted over to grab the bottle from the beside table, sliding down between Tucker’s spread open thighs. “You want to talk so much? Then fine. Talk.”

“What?”

“Talk. And if you stop, I stop.” The sharp click of the lid snapping open made his point all too well.

“Right. Uh. Okay. We went to Burger King for dinner and I managed to get Junior his toy. Got all the groceries we had on the li-iist!” His breath hitched as the first finger pressed against him, just rubbing in slow circles, but the sensation was still enough to already break his concentration.

“Go on.”

_Smug fucking cockbite._

“Traffic sucked, bedtime went fine, you’re a n- _nnnngh_ -nerd, fuck! Then I kissed you and now we’re gonna fuck, story over, Wash-”

“That’s unfortunate. We were just getting started.” Tucker actually shot halfway back up off the bed as soon as he felt the finger slipping inside him suddenly begin to retreat. He reached up and gripped a handful of his boyfriend’s hair, dragging him in close, and he wanted to bite the smirk right off of that handsome face.

“You fucking stop and I’m gonna fuck you till somebody actually comes to the door to complain about the noise.”

Wash clucked his tongue, but he was grinning as his finger resumed its careful exploration, gradually opening him up for a second finger, and Tucker sank back a bit toward the bed again, though he maintained that firm grip, just in case, forcing them both to sink closer to the mattress. “So demanding,” he crooned, and the darker color that spread across his face was well worth the sting in his scalp from those strong fingers.

“Yeah, fuck you. You’re lucky I love you, dude.”

Wash crooked his fingers, and watched with satisfaction as Tucker’s body hitched into the sensation, teeth sinking into his lip to stifle a moan. “Uh huh. I bet I am.” He leaned in closer, and kissed him, feeling the soft vibration of needy noises against his mouth. “You’re lucky I love you too.”

“Oh my god, sex now, mushy stuff later.”

“Ever the romantic.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> http://cdn-www.dailypuppy.com/dog-images/frankie-the-doberman-pinscher-1_38461_2010-12-28_w450.jpg
> 
> I forgot to include this link last chapter. This is what Freckles looks like as an undocked Doberman.
> 
> For questions, comments, or anything else, you can find me here:  
> http://wexeatxthexrude.tumblr.com/ask


	5. No Time For Gentle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Dude, you look like you got mauled by an animal or something."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stress and a period of shitty health led to the delay of this chapter. I've already got ideas lined up for the next one, though, so hopefully it doesn't take quite as long to get out.

Locus had always liked to do things a certain way. There were rules and plans and obligations, and he liked to follow these rules and fulfill these plans as often as possible. Felix was the type to deviate from plans. To improvise. Felix liked to be excited, to plunge himself into new and pleasurable things. Felix was, for Locus, the eternal wrench being thrown into his plans. And for Felix, that was really the most exciting adventure of all.

Locus was methodical. If it took ten steps to complete a task, he would see each one through. And in the mornings, part of his ritual before work had always been a cup of coffee, black with two sugars.

Since Felix had moved in, that step now included a second cup, coffee pale with cream, to be set aside for his roommate. Too many instances of his coffee being grabbed blindly from under his nose had eventually taught him that this was a battle he was better off not fighting. There were a thousand reasons to disagree with Felix. An extra cup of coffee before work in the mornings wasn't one of them.

No, his energy was better saved for when Felix locked himself in the bathroom for over an hour and proceeded to take the longest shower known to man while singing at the top of his lungs. Pop songs, of all things.

It was better saved for when Felix picked the locks on the mailboxes and switched around everyone's mail and stole all their packages, just because he could, and then Locus was left to deal with their annoyed neighbors.

And it was certainly better saved for when Felix needed the living daylights fucked out of him.

Take, for example, the previous Wednesday. It had been too early in the morning for screaming. But that was sure as hell what was bouncing up and down the hallway at two am in Blood Gulch. The high-pitched accusations of Simmons and Grif's equally piercing rebuttals were frustratingly identifiable through all the walls and doors between them and their fellow tenants.

Felix was the first one to make his annoyance known, door thrown open and a snarl on his face, his hair standing on end and making him look more like a bristling porcupine than he ever had before in his life. Clad in nothing but the black briefs he'd stolen from Locus, he stormed down the hall and slammed his fist against the door of the offending apartment repeatedly.

"Fucking keep it down! Before I come in there and break your fucking necks!"

"Oh my god, dude, fucking go back to your own apartment, you're not helping anything." Tucker stood in his own doorway, in what was obviously his boyfriend's shirt and looking incredibly pissed at all the noise.

"Shut up, asshole, or I'll come over there and fucking fight you instead."

"Go back to bed, Felix. I'm sure Locus prefers you with all your fingers unbroken." Wash appeared over his shoulder, his expression stony, obviously protective.

The shouting in the apartment was still going strong. Felix glared a moment longer, glancing up and down the hall, and then threw up his hands in the air. "Fine! Whatever! Enjoy the fucking soap opera."

He didn't bother admitting that the only reason he backed off was because of Locus watching from their doorway. They could think whatever they liked.

He stomped back to his apartment, hearing the swearing from Tucker before the door closed behind them, and he made sure his shoulder bumped hard against his roommate's chest as he walked past him into their apartment.

"You're going to be tired in the morning," Locus said mildly, watching Felix pace around their living space like a caged animal.

"Fuck if I care. Fucking _assholes_ , keeping the whole building up with their racket." Felix kicked at the couch whenever he passed it. The material covering the side of the furniture was a faded bruise of scuffed and damaged upholstery from the number of times Felix had walked this circuit taking out his anger on inanimate objects in the past.

Locus sighed and glanced at the time again. He could always go back to bed alone, but he knew that it would only ensure more problems for him in the morning when he had to deal with a sleep-deprived Felix.

His alarm was set for seven. It could be bumped back just a little if he didn't need to take a shower before work...

And as easily as that, a solution arose.

"Felix." He was being ignored in favor of muttering and stomping. " _Felix_." More grumpy, pissed off noises. He sounded like a cat that had been dunked in water. "Felix!"

Finally his head jerked up, mouth twisted into a nasty scowl. "What?"

Locus rolled his eyes, and padded over to grab him firmly by the back of his neck, hauling him in close for a rough kiss. Felix squirmed against him for a moment, hands shooting up to grip his biceps, nails digging in sharply. But he didn't try to pull away, just wiggled like a caught fish for about ten seconds before he finally gave in, and his mouth opened, rearing forward to catch his Locus' lower lip between his teeth to bite sharply.

He gave a grunt as he felt his feet leave the ground, Locus' hands shifting to haul him up under his thighs until his legs could curl around the taller man's waist. Felix didn't let their mouths disconnect for a second, his own arms shifting to coil around his neck, one hand fisting in the short bob of Locus' pulled back hair.

He didn't pay any attention to where they were going, trusting Locus to make those kinds of decisions for him. Trusting Locus. That was a statement that still threw him for a loop most days. But it was surprisingly true.

Didn't mean he didn't still enjoy pissing him off on the regular though.

When the light flicked on overhead, Felix finally pulled back, squinting. "Why the fuck are we in the bathroom, asshole? Take me to bed and fuck me."

"I'm going to fuck you in here." Locus dropped him onto the counter and dragged the briefs down his legs, tossing them to the floor. The shorts he'd been wearing followed immediately after, and then he shoved Felix to his feet and toward the shower.

"What if I don't want to shower fuck?" But he was already pushing the curtain back and stepping inside. He bucked back as he was pushed face first against the tile, swearing at the stinging cold, nipples protesting as the barbells running through them were ground into the wall.

His cock was half hard already, fucking traitor. Not that he expected Locus not to know what turned him on at this point, because they were both freaks and they both knew it. But his body didn't always have to give in so fucking easily. Fucking asshole.

"If I fuck you, I'm going to need a shower. I already need to take one in the morning for work. I don't have time to play nice and do it all in its turn. So we'll fuck and clean up in the same place, and then I won't need another before work."

Felix made a mental note to try and get a blowjob out of Locus in the morning on principle.

“Or you could just fuck off back to bed and leave me alone so you can keep to your precious schedule without trying to freeze my nipples off.” Locus’ fingers tangled in his hair and yanked his head back as the water came on, ensuring he caught the first spray full in the face, making him splutter. A hot mouth wandered up the side of his neck as the slowly warming water poured over them, making Felix shudder.

“No time for sex in a goddamn bed but you’ve got enough time to tease,” Felix complained, hips rocking back against Locus, trying to entice him to hurry the fuck up and get inside him.

“If you want me to fuck you while the water’s still cold, that can be arranged.” Felix could see his roommate’s hand out of the corner of his eye, dark skin on pale porcelain and stainless steel. He didn’t need to see Locus’ face to know exactly the sort of ruthless look he’d be wearing right before the water went cold.

Really fucking cold.

Felix howled and Locus took it as a personal victory.

“Turn it up, turn it the _fuck_ back up!” He writhed, but Locus’ body kept him pinned under the icy spray. Fucking asshole motherfucker and his weird tolerance for cold fucking showers instead of hot ones like a normal fucking human being.

“Then stop complaining.”

“All right! Fucking all right, just turn the heat back on!”

After a moment, he heard the squeak of the faucet being turned again, and the water became lukewarm almost immediately. It felt like nirvana after the blast of Antarctica he’d just been treated to.

He bit his tongue on another insult just because he knew Locus would abso-fucking-lutely fuck him in a completely cold shower and he'd cum with goosebumps on his goddamn dick. And he wasn't interested in that kind of torture at this hour of morning, thanks.

The rattling of bottles bumping together alerted him to the fact that Locus had grabbed the lube from the rack, and he craned his head back to try and keep an eye on what he was doing, but his head was quickly pushed against the tile again, and long fingers wrapped around his throat.

A shiver raced down his spine as his windpipe was pressed into with those calloused fingertips, teasing him with the pressure. His lungs protested whenever he couldn't catch his breath, but his cock was rock hard against the slowly warming tile. "Locus-"

"Hush." Two fingers pressed into him, insistent and slick, and a ragged gasp tore past his lips as he opened up for them, feeling them probe inside him, scissoring and twisting to stretch him open hurriedly. "I don't have time to argue or deal with your fuss and whining. I don't have time to be gentle with you. You need this or you'll never sleep, and I'm willing to give it, but only so long as you cooperate."

Cooperation was one of the furthest words from his vocabulary, usually, but it was hard to argue very fiercely when his ass was getting worked open and he was finding it difficult to speak for the lack of air in his lungs.

Locus knew how to keep him on edge, fingers shifting on his throat to allow bursts of air in sometimes, enough to keep him coherent but not enough to ever quite fully relieve the ache in his chest. Three fingers were soon pressing into him, twisting around inside him until he threw back his head and keened desperately for more. He knew Locus had been purposefully avoiding his prostate, and he rocked his hips impatiently, demanding more.

The fingers inside him slid out, and were replaced by the familiar stretch of his roommate's cock. Felix groaned, the sound raw and needy, as the pierced tip dragged over his prostate, sending bursts of pleasure sparking through his tingling body.

One hand braced firmly on the wall beside Felix' head, and Locus leaned in close behind him, as his hips settled firmly against his ass, buried deep inside him. Teeth scraped across his skin, sharp and insistent. Felix' body jerked and he scrabbled blindly at the slick tile, searching for some purchase. His hands found the towel rack directly above his head and he gripped it tightly, shuddering.

"Fucking stop p-playing around and fuck me already!" he snapped. Locus' fingers retightened on his throat, yanking his head back, and those teeth sank into the side of his neck firmly, sucking at the spot as his hips began to pump, driving him firmly into the shorter man pinned under him.

"Be quiet."

"Make me."

Felix felt the smirk against his skin and his own mouth spread into a wild, wicked grin.

\---

"Dude, you look like you got mauled by an animal or something."

Felix rolled his neck a little before he looked back to see Tucker standing there eyeing him. The teeth marks on his neck were still raw and on obvious display, and the ones all over his back and shoulders were also exposed by the tank top he wore.

"Thanks, I was going for an all natural sort of look." That got him a raised eyebrow and he chuckled. "Worried about me, _Lavernius_?"

"Worried about the fact that I'm pretty sure I heard someone taking down a wall last night after you went back to your apartment. I don't need you busting through into my apartment just because you have to be destructive whenever you fuck."

"Relax, it wasn't your wall. And it was just a towel rack."

Despite himself, Tucker seemed reluctantly interested. "A towel rack? How the fuck did you break a towel rack?"

Felix wiggled his eyebrows. "Surely you know what happens when you get a whole lot of force and a whole lot of acceleration."

"Yeah, it means you're a fatass cause you have a lot of mass. What's that got to do with anything?" Tucker knew exactly what he meant. But he couldn't make it easy for him. If Felix was going to claim the honor of some ridiculous sexual feat, he was going to have to really earn it.

"No, dumbass. It means I got fucked so hard I ripped it out of the goddamn wall."

Both of them stopped talking and glanced up as Felix's door opened and Sarge came out, looking annoyed, brows furrowed. "Lopez is fixing you up with a new rack now." He eyed Felix like you would an old enemy come to visit. "Try not to tear this one down, numb nuts. M'not interested in wasting my time in here if you're just gonna keep trashing the place."

Felix through up a mock salute that had Sarge's frown turning into a scowl. "Aye, sir. We'll be on our best behavior."

Sarge grumbled as he turned away, "Why don't I believe that..."

Once he was out of earshot, Tucker immediately picked back up the conversation. "Just try not to be so obnoxious next time. Or to break your whole place up, apparently."

"Thanks. I'll be sure to keep that in mind." Gesturing with a bundle of letters in his hand, he turned away. "By the way, enjoy tracking down your mail. I heard some asshole switched everything all around again down there."

It took a moment for his words to register, but by the time they did, the apartment door was already swinging shut at his back, and Tucker's insults were muffled behind the wood.

"Sucker."


End file.
